


Waiting for the Next Perigee

by katedf



Series: Astronomy in Paradise [2]
Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-22 13:56:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katedf/pseuds/katedf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Solstice Festival and the Supermoon, Richard still hasn’t made a move. Camille promised him that they will have their very own perigee. Now she’s waiting for the right moment. So is he.</p>
<p>A sequel to “The Sun and the Moon.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. After the Supermoon

Camille sighed. Of all the things Richard could have asked for as his part of the amendment to their bargain, “go home” was NOT what she had expected. Or hoped for. She should have realized that he would never have brought sex into the agreement. He was too honorable to bargain for that. But he wasn’t oblivious to her presence. She’d seen the evidence of that when they were lying on the beach—she’d sensed the shockwave that went through him when he woke and realized that he was aroused. But she’d known he’d be mortified if she’d said or done anything about it. So she ignored it. 

Now she had to figure out what to do next. She had promised Richard their very own personal perigee. But would he take her up on the offer?

As she walked to work, she thought about Richard. What was it about him that drew her to him? He wasn’t the sort of man she usually found attractive. At first, he’d only been a challenge. It had been fun looking for little ways to annoy him. Never enough to be called insubordination, and certainly never bullying. Just a little tweaking now and then. She loved how animated he became when they argued. Most of the time he was so serious, and she liked it when their conversations became lively debates. 

Yet he wasn’t as serious as he seemed. Some of what appeared to be seriousness was deadpan humor. It had taken a while for her to “get” his British sense of humor. At first she’d thought he had no sense of humor at all. Then she realized that some of the sarcastic comments he made were dry wit, not serious statements.

But there were times when he was too serious. He could be incredibly literal, like just yesterday, when he didn’t get the sexual innuendo about fireworks. She smiled when she remembered the look on his face when she’d explained. _Sex. It can be like fireworks when it’s really good, you know?_ Fireworks. When would there be fireworks again? Bonfire Night was months away. She’d never have the patience to wait until November. 

He was probably the smartest man she’d ever met. He knew about the damnedest assortment of subjects. Sometimes he was too serious when he explained things. He could be soooo pedantic, lecturing in a tone that said “you should think this is important.” But his explanations about the sun and moon weren’t pedantic. He’d been passionate about his subject, excited to share his knowledge with her. Eager for her to be excited about astronomy, too. Eager for her to share his passion. 

Passion. How was she going to get him to feel that sort of passion for her? She did believe it was there. But he seemed frightened by it. Was he afraid of losing control? Of being rejected? This morning, she’d made it clear that she wouldn’t reject him. The issues with losing control were something he’d have to sort out. She’d have to be patient, not her strong suit by any means.

When Camille got to the station, Dwayne and Fidel were already there.

“How was the astronomy lesson, Camille?” asked Fidel.

Unaware that she sounded like Richard, Camille launched into an explanation.

-o-o-o-o-

Richard sighed. Of all the things he might have asked for as his part of the amendment to their bargain, “go home” was NOT what he had wanted. What he wanted—well no, he couldn’t bargain for THAT. But he did want her. He might hide it from everyone else, but he wasn’t fooling himself. He wanted her. 

It was wrong in so many ways. To begin with, she was his subordinate, and that should have been an end to it right there. “Off limits, off limits” had been his mantra for so long. But it wasn’t working any more. He was willing to risk breaking rules for her. No woman had ever tempted him to that extent. 

But it was a foolish wish. She was younger than he. Lively while he was staid. Gorgeous while he was… well, not ugly. But he’d always thought of himself as rather plain, ordinary-looking. She was the sun, hot and bright. He was the moon, cold and lacking any light of his own. 

Like the sun and the moon, they’d circled around each other for ages. No, the moon circled—orbited, really—around Earth, which orbited around the sun. So, carried around by Earth, the moon did orbit the sun. The sun didn’t orbit the moon. Although, one could consider the idea that all motion is relative. In that case, if the moon moves around the sun, the sun also moves around the moon. Lost in Einstein’s ideas of relative motion, Richard walked to work.

As he climbed the steps to the station, he could hear Camille’s voice, but he couldn’t make out everything she said.

“He [something indistinct] And it was HUGE! I couldn’t believe it! Then he [something else indistinct]”

“No way!” Dwayne said, laughing.

“Yes, way!” said Camille in a childish voice. 

Richard stopped halfway up the steps. He could hear the three of them laughing. He felt like he was back in Croyden, with Doug Anderson making fun of him. _How could she—no, Camille would never…_

“Seriously! It’s true. The moon looks bigger near the horizon because of a trick of the mind. It’s psychology, not astronomy!” Camille concluded her explanation triumphantly.

Richard resumed his climb up to the station, feeling ashamed of himself. How could he doubt Camille like that? If he’d honestly believed she was capable of such cruelty he’d never have fallen in love with—he stopped at the top step and grabbed the porch railing. _Thanks a lot,_ he grumbled to a deity he wasn’t sure existed. _Like my life isn’t complicated enough as it is._


	2. Waiting for Fireworks

Camille was frustrated. Perigee had been three weeks ago, and she still hadn’t found a way to find time alone with Richard off duty. They hadn’t said anything about the night of perigee. Had her promise of a personal perigee been too forward? But if she didn’t encourage him, he’d never do anything! 

It didn’t help that they hadn’t had a case in days. That was a good thing; no major crimes meant all was well on the island. And she didn’t wish anyone harm. Except sometimes Richard because he was driving her CRAZY behaving as if nothing had happened. Well, nothing had happened. But it almost had. And they needed to face up to that. 

Richard looked up when Camille sighed in frustration.

“Something wrong, Sergeant?”

“No. It’s just the old case reviews we do to fill time are soooo boring! Some of these cases are so cold we could use them to chill a case of beer.”

“A beer sounds good to me right now,” said Dwayne. He got up and handed a file to Richard. “Here’s the file on the grocery break-in. Dave tells me the check the parents wrote has cleared, so he won’t press charges against the kids.”

“If Dave is happy with the resolution, I suppose we won’t pursue this. I don’t like to see parents buying their kids’ way out of trouble.”

“Nobody ever bought my way out of trouble,” said Dwayne. 

“You probably always charmed your way out of trouble,” said Camille. Dwayne grinned and shrugged. Richard shook his head.

“Hey, listen to this!” Fidel sounded excited. “An old friend of mine, Ross, is coming to Saint Marie. His band has been playing resorts on various islands, and they’re going to play at the new resort on Marguerite Beach. They start on next Monday!”

“We should all go!” said Camille. 

“What sort of music do they play?” Richard asked warily.

“Ohh, good stuff, Chief. Jazz mostly. Ross is an amazing keyboard player.”

Camille looked at Richard and said, “What, you only listen to classical music? Is jazz too random for you?”

“No, not at all. Jazz is very interesting. Despite how it sounds to the untrained ear, it is very structured.”

“So will you come with us, Chief?” Fidel asked. “I’ll send you a link to their site. They call themselves Blue Coral.”

“That’s an unusual name,” said Camille.

“Ross likes to dive the reefs around the islands. When we were in school, he had a band and they called themselves the Reefers.”

Richard almost choked on his coffee.

Fidel laughed, “Yeah, well, his Dad made them change the name pretty quickly.”

-o-o-o-o-

Richard was tired. In the three weeks since perigee, Camille had become increasingly fidgety, and it was getting on his nerves. Had she really meant what she’d said about having their own perigee? Was she aware of how much he’d wanted her that night? That night? Hell, wanting Camille was pretty much a way of life for him. 

It didn’t help that they hadn’t had a case in days. He needed something to think about other than Camille and perigee and sleeping on the beach. He knew that the lack of crime made the team look good. They had such a high closure rate that criminals thought twice about basing operations on Saint Marie. It was the one-off killers that they had to deal with. And if he didn’t think of some way to deal with Camille, she’d probably kill him out of sheer frustration. And then he’d have to arrest her again. Oh wait, if she killed him, he wouldn’t be there to arrest her. He shook his head as if that could clear his jumbled thoughts.

“Something wrong, Sir?” Camille asked, noticing the troubled look on his face. 

“No, just trying to drive out distractions. Any hope someone will commit a crime and save me from these monthly reports?”

“I could go out and rob a bank, if you like, Chief,” said Dwayne, grinning. 

“No thank you, Dwayne,” Richard replied. “You’ve already done a B & E at a post office. I don’t want to see you have a life of crime.”

“No, no, Chief. Not me. I told you. I have witnesses that could swear I was on the other side of the island when the post office was broken into.” Dwayne’s grin got wider. Richard let his head drop forward into his hands. 

“Is there a voodoo version of hell? Because I think I’m in it.” Or anyone’s version of hell, Richard thought. He needed to think of something to do about Camille. If she was just a woman he’d met on the island, it would be easy. Well, not easy. For him nothing was ever easy with women. But compared to falling for his subordinate, a relationship with any other woman would seem easy. 

And there was next Monday to look forward to. Or dread. It wasn’t the jazz. He quite liked jazz. It was the logistics who was going with whom. Camille would probably offer to drive him. Would they be alone on the way to and from the resort? _To_ the resort wasn’t an issue. It was the end of the evening that made him worry.


	3. Moonlight and All That Jazz

Monday evening, Camille picked up Richard at the beach house. She walked onto the verandah and found him waiting for her. He had developed a tactic of being ready early to avoid embarrassing moments, like being found in his pajamas in the morning. If she remarked about sleeping naked one more time, his brain would cease to function. This evening, she was wearing a dress he couldn’t remember seeing before, short and brightly flowered. 

“You look lovely.”

“Thank you.”

“You look too serious. Please leave the tie home.”

“Camille…”

“Come on, I’ll let you keep the jacket, but not the tie.” Before he could say anything, Camille loosened and removed Richard’s tie. She unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. She started on the next button, but he swatted her hand away.

“I think we should be going. Don’t want to be late,” he grumbled before images of her undressing him could take over his mind.

They arrived at the resort before the set had started. The bar was beginning to fill up. Richard headed for a table toward the middle of the room.

“Don’t you want to sit in front?” asked Camille.

“No, it’s better if you’re back a bit. The music blends better. Oh. This table is reserved.”

“Reserved for you!” said a voice he didn’t recognize. Richard turned to see a tall man walking toward them with Fidel and Juliet in tow.

“Hi, Chief,” said Fidel. This is my friend Ross. Ross, Inspector Poole.”

“Pleased to meet you, sir,” said the musician. “I see you know how to pick a location for listening. I wish they wouldn’t put tables so close to the stage. You don’t hear a good balance there.” 

“I’m looking forward to hearing you play,” Richard said as he shook Ross’s hand. He gave Camille a triumphant smile. She had wanted one of the front tables. 

Richard turned to greet Juliet and ask about Rosie while Fidel introduced Camille to Ross. While talking to Juliet, Richard couldn’t help noticing that Camille had turned up the wattage of her smile when talking to Ross. What was she up to now? He hated it when a woman used one man to make another jealous. He’d been the one used a few times back at university and he still resented it. 

Ross had to return to the group and get ready, so Camille sat down next to Richard. Dwayne arrived a few minutes after that. They ordered drinks and settled in to listen to Blue Coral. Richard was impressed. The band played a few numbers he knew and some he didn’t. Then they played one of Richard’s favorite standards, and it turned out that Ross was a good singer, too.

> “Have you met Miss Jones?” someone said as we shook hands.  
>  She was just Miss Jones to me.

Richard smiled, mentally writing his own lyrics. _"Have you met Bordey?” Selwyn said as we looked daggers. She was such a pain to me._

But when Ross got to “And all at once I lost my breath and all at once was scared to death,” Richard realized that was how he felt when he was alone with Camille. No need to rewrite those lines.

Under cover of applause at the end of the song, Camille whispered to Richard, “I know that one. It’s from Bridget Jones.”

“Is it?” Richard whispered back. “They may have used it, but the song is much older than that. It’s considered a jazz standard.”

When they reached the end of the set, Ross introduced the last song by saying, “Here’s one for those of you who remember Bruce Willis when he had hair.” He began to sing:

> Some walk by night  
>  Some fly by day  
>  Nothing can change you  
>  Set and sure of the way.

Camille smiled. Well, here was a song written for Richard. If anyone was set in his ways, he was. Just getting him to go out without a tie had required some discussion. As she mused about trying to get Richard to loosen up, she lost track of the song. There was a mention of the sun and moon. She made a mental note to check the lyrics.

When the set was over, Ross joined them for a few minutes. Camille commented on the last song.

“It’s the theme from a TV show,” said Ross. “It was called 'Moonlighting,' a detective show about mismatched partners. One was straight-laced and serious. That was the woman. The other, Bruce Willis, was fast-talking and funny. He always challenged authority, especially his partner. They fought all the time.”

Dwayne choked on his drink and Fidel had to hide his smile. Juliet stifled a giggle.

Ross glanced at them and continued, “The show was groundbreaking in a lot of ways. I saw it when a satellite channel was running a bunch of ‘TV shows that changed TV.’ It was a good show. The fighting was fast and funny. Well, right up until they had sex. Then the show went to hell and got cancelled. Anyhow, the tune is cool.”

Ross changed subjects, warning them that the next set would be conventional dance music for the “strict tempo” crowd. “Ever since the dancing competition programs started, people are taking ballroom dance lessons like crazy. The resort plays canned music some of the time, but they wanted us to provide some live dance music.”

“Well, I’m not much of a dancer,” said Fidel, “and we’ve got to pick up Rosie at Juliet’s mother’s house, so we probably will sneak out during the next set. But it’s been great to see you. And hear you play. You were good back in school, but you’ve gone way beyond that. Good for you, man! Let’s get together again before you leave the island.”

Ross left to set up for the next set. Dwayne left, as jazz wasn’t to his taste. Richard and Camille ordered another drink, and settled in to listen and watch. The foursome discussed the dancers for a while, and then Fidel and Juliet decided to leave. Fidel reached for his wallet, but Richard shook his head.

“I’ve got this.” When Fidel started to object, Richard said, “When you see him again, get me one of his CDs and we’ll call it even.”

Many of the dancers on the floor had obviously taken lessons. Camille was intimidated by their strict posture and elaborate routines, so she didn’t try to get Richard to dance with her. They finished their drinks and left soon after Fidel and Juliet. Richard took the keys from Camille and told her that he would drive, because she’d been drinking rum and he’d only had beer. While he drove, she took out her phone and started tapping.

“Here it is!” she said. “The Moonlighting song. Ross was right, it was a theme from a detective show. Listen!”

The song played, and Richard recognized it as the one that Blue Coral had done. When it got to one verse in particular, Richard frowned.

> There is the sun and moon,  
>  They sing their own sweet tune,  
>  Watch them when dawn is due,  
>  Sharing one space. 

“Isn’t that sweet?” she said. “Instead of that song that had the sun and moon apart, this one brings them together.” _hint, hint!_

“But that’s ridiculous!” said Richard. 

“What is?”

“Several things. First, the sun and moon don’t share the same space. Not ever. Even during an eclipse, when one is in front of the other, they aren’t in the same space. They’re millions of kilometers apart.”

“But they look like they’re in the same space. It’s a song, don’t be so literal.”

“But it’s wrong! And the other bit, watch them when dawn is due? How can you watch the sun before dawn? The sun isn’t visible before dawn!”

“It’s just a song!” said Camille as Richard pulled up at her house. “Don’t be so picky!”

She got out of the car and slammed the door. So much for wondering how the evening would end, Richard thought.

As he drove home, Richard thought about Ross’s description of that TV show. The two partners sounded a lot like Camille and him, but with the gender reversed. Ross had said that the show had gone to hell after the main characters had sex. That didn’t bode well for his situation. Whatever happened to happily ever after? 

-o-o-o-o-

As she got ready for bed, Camille thought about their argument. She hadn’t seen that TV show, but she recognized themselves in the characters Ross had described. She shouldn’t have snapped at Richard over that song. But he had once described them as sun and moon, very different and far apart, so she liked that this song had them sharing a space. Didn’t Richard want them to get together? Tomorrow she might try to explain why she liked the song, and explain that she wasn’t trying to irritate him. Because, although he was the straight-laced character, she wasn’t the Bruce Willis character. Not really. Was she?

-o-o-o-o-

Richard couldn’t sleep. Why did he have to pick an argument over that song? Okay, he knew why. He was nervous about how the evening would end. And Ross’s description of the characters in that TV show didn’t help. Anyhow, it _was_ a stupid lyric. What was the thing about sharing space? Hell, he couldn’t sleep, might as well look it up.

Richard was surprised to see how many songs had the word _moonlight_ in the title. And that didn’t even count Moonlight Sonata, which didn’t come up in the search since it doesn’t have lyrics. He read the lyrics to “Moonlighting” again. Why did he have to be so literal about everything? Taken as a metaphor, the song was quite nice. The lines “Watch them as dawn is due, sharing one space” left him with an image of Camille in his bed, the first rays of morning light glinting through the shutters. Well, THAT was never going to happen unless he learned to think like a lover, not an astronomer. He went back to the song list.

-o-o-o-o-

Camille couldn’t sleep. Why did they have to argue? Again. The night of the Supermoon he had warned her that he wasn’t good at poetry and metaphors. He made that clear tonight. Why couldn’t he see that her comment about the “sharing one space” line was a hint? She rolled over, her arm flung across the bed. She imagined waking in the early morning with her arm flung over a sleeping Richard. Well, THAT was never going to happen unless she learned to sidestep his emotional landmines. Maybe if she apologized… But when? They never seemed to be alone for even a minute. 

An hour of dozing and waking left Camille even more frustrated. If she couldn’t find time to apologize at work, maybe she’d do it by email. So she got up and turned on her laptop. She was startled to find an email from Richard.

_Camille,_  
 _I’m sorry for arguing this evening. I shouldn’t have been so literal about the song. If I stop thinking like an astronomer and just think like a human being (which I CAN do, even though I know you doubt it), yes it’s a lovely metaphor, especially set to that melody. A good song, and I’m sorry I complained about it._  
 _I did warn you that I’m not good with metaphors. To be honest, I’ve always been impatient about poetry. Why dress it up in fancy images and similes and metaphors? Why can’t people just SAY what they have to say? But then, I’m not very good at that, either._  
 _Anyhow, by way of an apology, here’s a song I found when looking up the words to the “Moonlighting” song. I have no quibbles with this one. I hope you like it._  
 _Richard_  


Camille clicked on the link, and heard Sting’s voice:

> In the moonlight  
>  When the shadows play  
>  When the thought of what could happen  
>  Takes your breath away

Camille listened to the song, then played it again. The song was about hoping and dreaming and a little about fear and doubt— “Can we be sure that anything is real?” She smiled when she realized Richard had let an error of astronomy slip by. Stars do not “wander indiscreetly.” Even Camille knew stars didn’t “wander.” But the ending was more confident. And maybe sending her this song was more than just a token of his apology. The last two lines seemed to be a promise:

> For all the things we’ve dreamed of in the moonlight  
>  Will be there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Have You Met Miss Jones?” is a jazz standard (and one of my favorites; published in 1937, way before they used it for the end credits of Bridget Jones). Music by Richard Rogers, lyrics by Lorenz Hart. 
> 
> The “Moonlighting” theme was written by Lee Holdridge (music) and Al Jarreau (lyrics). Al Jarreau recorded it for the opening credits. 
> 
> The song Richard sends to Camille is “Moonlight,” the theme from the remake of “Sabrina.” Music by John Williams, lyrics by Alan and Marilyn Bergman. Sung by Sting on the movie soundtrack.


	4. It's a Boy!

The next morning, Camille managed to find a second to murmur, “Thanks for the song,” as she handed Richard a file. He smiled and they let it go at that. With no big case to take them out of the office, there was no time for further conversation of such a personal nature. Camille tried to think of a way to move things along with Richard, but she had no good ideas. Fortunately, the stork helped out.

Despite its French heritage, Saint Marie was now part of the British Commonwealth. As such, the island acknowledged Queen Elizabeth II as the queen, with Prince Charles and then Prince William as heirs. And now there was a new addition to the succession, Prince George of Cambridge. 

Camille didn’t care all that much about royalty. She did sometimes follow the goings-on of the Duchess of Cambridge, mainly to see the fashions. She had to laugh when she saw fascinators appear among the straw hats in church—on those rare occasions when her mother dragged her to church. In any of the photos Camille had seen of the Duchess during trips to Mustique, fascinators hadn’t been part of her wardrobe.

But the latest news on Saint Marie made Camille very fond of the newest royal. The Governor-General and Prime Minister decided that Saint Marie should celebrate the birth with a festival. The Prime Minister wanted to wait until the christening, to tie the festival to a specific event. The Governor-General was uncomfortable with attaching fireworks to a day that would, for the Royal Family, be a private event, and a religious one at that. Plus, the christening wouldn’t be until the Queen returned to London after her holiday in Scotland. And then if the date was pushed back into October, the Prince George festival would be too close to Bonfire Night. So the birth of the newest royal heir would be celebrated with a festival in August. 

The Royal Police Force of Saint Marie was the second official group to be notified. (The Department of Tourism, of course, got the first call.) Commissioner Patterson could relay the news to most of the stations around the island by phone. But because the festival would be centered in Honoré, he felt he should tell that team in person.

“Good morning, team!” he said in that sonorous voice, the one that made herald trumpeters completely unnecessary. 

Richard, Camille, and Fidel jumped to their feet. “Good morning, sir!”

Patterson nodded to acknowledge the greeting. “You’re one short this morning.”

“Ah, yes,” replied Richard. “Dwayne has gone to investigate what might be an attempted break-in.”

“Might be?”

“Considering that it happened in the small hours of the morning, and consisted mainly of a front door being rattled, we think it’s likely that someone was intoxicated and having trouble identifying his own door. We’ll make a record of it, of course, but I doubt it’s the start of a crime spree.”

“Good, good. Always best to be thorough, even if it seems a nuisance call.”

Richard couldn’t help thinking of the Commissioner’s visit as a nuisance call. A quick glance at Camille told him she was thinking the same thing. Rather than suppress a smirk, he chose to smile.

“So, sir, what can we do for you this morning?”

“I wanted to tell you that we have a festival coming up.”

“Do we?” Richard looked puzzled. “When?”

“I don’t recall seeing anything on the calendar,” said Camille, in support of her boss.

“Ah, yes, you see, it’s just been added.”

“Oh. Because…?” Richard let the question trail off.

“You should appreciate this, Inspector. We’re going to celebrate the birth of your future king.” 

“Actually, given his age and mine, I rather think he will succeed to the throne after, aghmmm,” he ended the statement with a cough, after Camille stepped on his foot to stop him from contradicting his boss. 

“I wish you a life long enough to see that momentous day, Inspector. In the meantime, you will need to organize security and crowd control details for the festival. Government house will supply extra help, of course.”

“Do we know anything of the plans for specific events?” asked Fidel. Now that he was a sergeant, he felt he should contribute to the discussion.

“No timetable as yet. But there have been rough plans in the works for a while, in anticipation of the event. There will be a street fair. Vendors and restaurants are being encouraged to serve British food.”

“Oh, yum,” said Camille under her breath. Richard didn’t step on her foot, but he nudged hers to keep her quiet.

“We’ve managed street fairs before, so that should be simple enough to organize,” said Richard. “Anything else, sir?”

“Yes. There will be fireworks in the evening.”

Camille saw the blush start to creep up Richard’s neck. He must have been remembering her comment about fireworks the day of the Perigee. To save him embarrassment, she drew the Commissioner’s attention to herself.

“Oh! I love fireworks! Will the official Government House brass band play ‘God Save the Queen’ and things like that?”

“There will probably be something along those lines. Event planning is not my responsibility. There is a committee putting it all together. When they tell me what will happen, I will advise you.”

“Yes, sir,” said Richard. “When you give us the schedule, we’ll get right on the planning.”

“Excellent, I always know I can count on you, Inspector. And do remember to schedule some time off for you and your team to enjoy the festivities, especially the fireworks. Good day.”

He was barely out the door when Camille started to giggle. Richard shot her a “shut up NOW” glare, but she couldn’t stop herself.

Fidel, who had forgotten about Dwayne’s plans for private fireworks the night of the Solstice Festival, asked “What’s funny about fireworks?”

This question set Camille off in gales of laughter. When she got control of herself she managed to get out, “Fireworks are, you know, fun! Exciting!”

Fidel shook his head and went back to his desk. He didn’t notice Richard’s blush or Camille’s smile as she began to make plans.


	5. Making Plans

The next morning, Richard received an email from the Commissioner, with the festival schedule attached. Richard printed copies and handed them to his team.

“As you can see, the festival is set for August 10.”

“Two and a half weeks is pretty short notice,” said Dwayne.

“Yes, but there’s nothing very complicated. Because it’s in honor of a baby, the festival is family-oriented. Games and so forth for kids and a baby parade, whatever that is.” Richard frowned as he scanned the page that gave details. “Ah, I see. A parade of decorated prams. Judging to be based on the decorations, not the attractiveness of the child within it.”

“Pram?” asked Dwayne.

“Baby carriage, baby buggy,” said Fidel. 

“Will Juliet want to decorate Rosie’s, um, pram?” asked Camille. “If she does, tell her I’ll help. We could do it in roses for Rosie and lots of little English flags.”

“Union Jack, not English flag,” said Richard. “The flag used by the United Kingdom is commonly called the ‘Union Jack.’ It represents the countries of the UK, England, Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland. It incorporates the Crosses of Saint George for England, Saint Andrew—oh, never mind the details. Lots of the overseas territories incorporate the Union Jack into their flags. In fact, it’s in the corner of the Saint Marie flag. Of course, you lot managed to sneak in a fleur-de-lis on the flag, too.”

“Doesn’t England have a flag, then?” asked Fidel.

“Yes, it’s the Cross of Saint George.”

“Then we have to use that!” said Camille. “Saint George, Prince George, it’s perfect!”

“Fine, Camille. You and Juliet can have fun decorating a pram. In your off time, please. We do have work to do. Could we get back to the schedule? And stop Googling Saint George, at least until we go through the schedule.”

“Fine,” she huffed. Dwayne and Fidel exchanged amused glances.

“There will be appearances by some children’s characters. Specifics to be announced, when they find out what costumes are available. The festival will begin at ten in the morning and end with a Grand Illumination at eight. At that point, it is expected that parents will be taking their kids home, and the usual Saturday night bar scene will go on as usual.”

“Um, Chief?”

“Yes, Dwayne?”

“What is a grand illumination?”

“It’s an old-fashioned name for fireworks.”

Camille snorted, and Richard glared at her. He continued his instructions, “So Fidel, Dwayne, why don’t you start to work out security and policing needs. If you don’t have schedules from past events, I have some files I can send you. Keep in mind that this will likely have a greater number of kids than usual, which means staffing to help with lost kids, and also probably more first-aid staff.”

“Right, Chief,” said Fidel.

“We’re on it,” said Dwayne, sliding his chair over to Fidel’s desk.

“And now,” Richard said to Camille, “You may Google Saint George to your heart’s content.”

-o-o-o-o-

Now that the day for the festival had been set, plans progressed rapidly. Fidel and Dwayne prepared a draft of a work schedule, and send it to Camille for proofing. She looked it over and said to Fidel, “You haven’t slotted us in for our tasks yet.”

“No, I thought I’d do that after you had a look at the times we set up. When the Chief and Dwayne get back from looking at locations, I’ll send a more complete version to him.”

“It looks fine to me. Just remember to keep the evening free for us. I want to see the fireworks.”

“I’ll remember.”

Camille scanned the schedule again. The fireworks were planned for 8 o’clock. That was late enough after sunset, but still early enough for the kids to be able to stay up to watch. And it was a good time for a romantic supper at the beach. Perhaps Maman would make something very English that she could take out to the beach. 

Camille Googled Yorkshire pudding, but soon realized that it wouldn’t survive the trip from La Kaz to the beach house. She searched for other puddings, and started to giggle. No, there was no way was she having anything to do with a dessert called “spotted dick!” Which brought her back to Yorkshire pudding. Why was it a pudding when it wasn’t a dessert? Making a mental note to ask Richard, she moved on to a search for English picnic foods. When the first things that came up were quiche, cold leek-potato soup (vichyssoise to her), and gazpacho, she gave up. Did the English know how much non-Enlgish food they ate? Maybe she should ask one of the Daughters of the Empire for picnic ideas. They were the force behind this festival, anyway.

Dwayne and Richard returned, arguing mildly about the pony rides. 

“What’s wrong?” asked Camille.

“The Chief doesn’t like pony rides,” said Dwayne.

“No, I didn’t say that. I said I’m concerned about having them at the festival.”

“What’s wrong with pony rides?” asked Camille.

“Nothing if it’s done properly,” Richard answered. “I just have my doubts about doing it in Honoré. There isn’t a lot of shade for the ponies.”

“They live on Saint Marie,” said Dwayne. “They’re used to the heat. And the owners can set up something to give them shade.”

“Most of the stables are in the rainforest or other places where there’s plenty of shade. I want to be sure that this operator will provide adequate cover for the animals. They’ll probably be saddled all day, so they mustn't stand in the sun. There must be some sort of animal welfare law I can invoke.”

“I’ll call them and check on it right now, Chief.” Dwayne went to his desk and picked up the phone. Camille walked to Richard’s desk to look at the map. 

“At least they’ll be on the grass in the park,” she said. “That helps. And they can put up canopies. I hope somebody remembers to hire a scooper crew. We don’t need to have the park covered in, um, what do they call them?” 

“Road apples,” said Fidel. 

“Meadow muffins,” said Dwayne. 

“Horse manure,” said Richard. “I’ll mention it in my list of comments to the Commissioner. Fidel, how’s the schedule coming?”

“In your inbox, Sir.”

“Excellent.” Richard opened the file and scanned it. “Looks good, Fidel. It’s getting late, so I’ll read it again tomorrow one more time before I send staffing requests to Government House. I see you’ve left us open for the evening. Can Rosie stay awake for 8 o’clock?”

“You mean for the fireworks?”

“Yes. I thought we could watch them from my house. I did say that we should do that next time. The lights are still pretty, but she won’t have to hear the loud scary bangs.”

“Thank you, Sir. That would be nice. I’m sure Juliet will like the idea.”

“Dwayne? Camille? Make it a department outing of sorts?”

“Sure,” said Dwayne. Camille said nothing. She had hoped for a private fireworks viewing.

“Camille?” Richard asked again.

“Hmm? Yes, of course,” she said. What else could she say? So much for her plans for an evening of _fireworks._ Oh well, at least she’d be at Richard’s house. Maybe there was still a way to salvage the opportunity.

-o-o-o-o-

As the weeks of planning went by, Richard was relieved to notice that Camille had stopped making sly comments about fireworks. She’d seemed less than enthusiastic when he suggested the whole team watch from his house. She often complained about him not doing things with the team, and now he’d suggested something and she wasn’t pleased. There was some sort of disconnect, and he tried to figure it out. Had she been hoping they’d watch the fireworks alone together? Was the fact that they weren’t going to be alone the reason she’d stopped making those comments? She’d made a comment about perigee the night they watched the Supermoon. Well, that wasn’t going to help him at all. The next Supermoon was years away. Wait a minute. August, early August—wasn’t that… He needed to do a little internet searching.

Meanwhile, packages for Richard began to appear at the station. Neille sent him three different kinds of shortbread to taste. The confectioner asked his opinion on marzipan crowns and baby rattles. Marte sent him various tarts. Richard duly tasted everything, then shared the goodies with his team. He reported back all opinions, but he knew his was the one that counted because he was suddenly the expert on All Things English.

“I never thought I’d say this,” he said one afternoon, “But I am tired of sweets. I am not the only English person on this island. What about the Daughters of the Empire? Why are vendors expecting _me_ to pass judgment on the foods?”

Camille laughed, “You’re one of the newer arrivals and everyone knows that you miss English food, so they want to get it right. You’re the Chief of Police. It’s important to stay on your good side.”

“Oh my God! I’ve been eating bribes?”

“No! Just tokens of their esteem.”

“That sounds like a euphemism for _bribe.”_

“Well, it isn’t. And now that you’ve tasted the food, you will have to visit the stalls and buy some. We can have dinner in town, either from the stalls or at La Kaz. And then we can take the sweets to the beach to have dessert while we watch the fireworks. That way, you can patronize the stalls and not have to eat all those calories on your own.”

-o-o-o-o-

As the weeks of planning went by, Camille formulated and discarded several plans for the night of the festival. Fidel had been genuinely pleased by Richard’s invitation, and she couldn’t begrudge him that. But she had been counting on the fireworks as a way to nudge Richard. A few beers, the bliss she expected to follow lots of English foods, a few suggestive comments about fireworks, especially if she could convince Richard to watch from the beach. Snuggling on the beach blanket, watching fireworks. It would have been perfect! But now she needed a Plan B, a way to get the others away from the beach house as quickly as possible after the fireworks, and a reason for her to stay. 

Richard shared the food samples that were appearing daily, and Camille took note of the items Richard liked best. So far Neille’s traditional shortbread was in first place. Camille had swooned over the chocolate shortbread, despite Richard’s comment that it wasn’t traditional. This had led to a debate about why it seemed more women than men were chocoholics. Richard made a remark about “ungovernable appetites,” which set Camille off in gales of laughter. 

When she stopped laughing, she said, “Not ungovernable at all. There’s a simple control mechanism to turn them on. Chocolate!” 

“But how to stop them?” he responded.

Camille raised her eyebrows, smiled at Richard, and softly said, “Satiation.”

Fidel and Dwayne had been enjoying listening to the banter, and were disappointed that they missed Camille’s response. But it must have been good. The Chief had turned scarlet.


	6. A Festival Fit for a Prince

The morning of the festival, Camille stopped by La Kaz to visit her mother. Catherine had decorated the bar with balloons and ribbons in red, white, and blue. 

“Very pretty, Maman. It doesn’t bother you to celebrate Britishness so much?”

“Ah, ma chère, don’t forget that these are the colors of the French flag, too.” Catherine winked at Camille, and they both laughed.

“Dinner will be at six, try to be on time.” said Catherine.

“Oui, Maman. Thank you for doing that. It would be nicer if we were going out to the beach on our own afterwards.”

“Don’t rush it, Camille. If you really want to make a future with that man, you’re going to have to work on being patient. So far, he hasn’t been a fast mover. Is he really what you want?”

“Yes, Maman. I—what’s that thing you say about a man being different?”

“All a girl really wants is for one guy to prove to her that they are not all the same. Marilyn Monroe said it. And you think Richard is that one guy?”

“Well, he’s not like any other man I’ve met.”

“I don’t think she meant it literally.”

“No. I know that. But he’s the things she was talking about—honest, honorable, kind…”

“Dull? Repressed?”

“Deep. Reserved.”

“But your nature is so passionate. Don’t you need that passion returned?”

“I think, deep down, he has the capacity for passion. But I suspect he’s been badly hurt in the past. I want to be the one woman who’s not like the others, the one with whom he can let that passion loose because he knows I won’t hurt him.”

“Does he see you that way? You scold him a lot.”

“I yell because I care. Isn’t that what you used to say to me when I was a teenager?”

“It’s what I said. But in truth, I used to yell at you because you drove me crazy.”

Camille laughed and hugged her mother. “I love you, Maman. See you later!”

-o-o-o-o-

Richard sat on the porch of the Honoré Police Station, surveying the activities below. True to their word, the people from the stable had set up a canopy to shelter the ponies. The pony rides would be available for only a few hours so that the ponies would not be in the heat all day. Vendors had their tents set up and their wares on display. People were beginning to crowd the street. Parents lined up with children eager to ride a pony, jump in the bouncy castle, or have their faces painted. 

Richard could see Camille with Juliet, adding the last touches to Rosie’s pram. Rosie was too big now to really need a pram, but she had agreed to sit in it and wave to the crowd. Richard had shown Camille how to do the “royal wave,” and Camille tried to teach Rosie. But Camille didn’t expect the child to remember in the excitement of the parade. Richard watched Camille kiss Rosie and hug Juliet before climbing the steps to the station.

“What is that on your head?” Richard asked her.

“A crown. There’s a table where kids can color and decorate a paper crown.”

“I see you skipped the markers and went straight for the glitter.”

Camille laughed and took the crown off. She sat next to Richard and looked down at the festival.

“You’ve got glitter in your hair,” he said.

Camille reached up to brush it away and Richard blocked the motion. “Don’t. It looks good. Festive.”

“You should go down and check out the vendors. There’s British food everywhere. Fish and chips, sausage rolls, pasties. Marta even made scones—”

“With clotted cream?”

“No, just jam. It’s too hot for cream, clotted or whipped. Marta said she was afraid of it spoiling or getting too runny. She has jam tarts, too. And those bake-something tarts you liked and I didn’t. But don’t eat too much. Remember, Maman is making dinner for the team.”

“Dare I hope?”

“Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding!”

“Ahhh,” Richard sighed. “Sounds heavenly. You don’t suppose your mother is interested in marrying again, is she?”

“WHAT?”

“Joke, Camille, just a joke.”

“NOT funny.”

“I don’t see why you’re—”

“Hi, Chief,” Dwayne called, cutting off the argument that was brewing. “Things look good down there. Are you going down to see the parade?”

“No. I have to be look busy up here. The Daughters of the Empire asked me to judge. Thank God Juliet and Rosie entered. I was able to use that as a reason to recuse myself. That and management duties. So I’ll cheer her on from up here. I’m sure Fidel will have pictures to show us later. You two go down and watch.”

As they walked down the steps, Camille took advantage of a moment alone with Dwayne to ask a favor.

“Dwayne, are you going to go out to Richard’s house to watch the fireworks?”

“I guess so. Nearly all the women I see around here are with their kids, so the Chief’s fireworks party seems to be my best offer.”

“Okaaay, the thing is…”

“What, you don’t want me to go?”

“No, it isn’t that. But could you, I don’t know, have a reason to leave fairly soon after they’re over?” 

Dwayne stopped walking and turned to look at Camille. She looked up at him imploringly.

“Camille, what are you up to?”

“It’s just—Fidel and Juliet will take Rosie home after the fireworks, and…”

“You want to be alone with the Chief.”

Camille sighed. “Yes.”

“I don’t know what you think he’s gonna do, Camille. I mean he’s pretty by-the-book, and he’s your boss.”

“I know! But I thought sitting on the beach, watching the fireworks, it seemed so perfect. But then he invited everyone. And I don’t know if he did that because he really wanted us all to be there, or if it’s some sort of defense thing.”

“So if you get rid of us, he’ll be defenseless?” Dwayne grinned at her.

“Please?”

“Okay. But don’t get your hopes up. Fidel and I, we watch the two of you argue, and we’re never sure what’s going on or what’s going to happen. I have to ask. Camille, I’m your friend, so I have to ask. Are you sure he’s what you want?”

“I already had this conversation with Maman, Dwayne. I don’t think I can do it twice in one day. Come on, let’s go wish Rosie luck.”

-o-o-o-o-

Rosie did not win the baby parade, having been edged out by twins in a double buggy. Camille was disappointed, but Rosie didn’t care. She’d waved to people and tossed rose petals from a little basket and considered it all a great success. When Juliet took her home for a nap, Fidel reported in at the station.

“Hello, Fidel. Sorry Rosie didn’t win.”

“That’s all right, Chief. Do you want to take a stroll through the festival? I’ll handle things here.”

“Thanks, Fidel. I’ll be back in a while.”

Richard wandered the stalls and made a few purchases. He nearly bought out the confectioner’s supply of jelly babies, but didn’t want to seem greedy. He bought a few packets, and told the man he’d buy up any leftovers.

Richard visited the information table, where Camille was stationed. 

“I bought you a present,” she said, holding out a small bag.

Richard looked inside and laughed.

“Let me guess,” she said. “You’ve already bought some? Did you clean out his supply?”

“No. I didn’t want to be greedy. But I, um, bought a few packets. I also bought various sweets, as instructed, for tonight’s dessert. Did you see Neille’s chocolate shortbread? They were going fast, so I bought some of them. I know how you like chocolate.” Camille’s smile reminded him of their discussion of chocolate and appetites. Before she could start again, he said, “But back to work. Is everything all right down here?”

“Yes, fine. First Aid have handled a few scraped knees, but so far it’s quiet.”

“Excellent. See you later.”

Camille watched as Richard strolled over to the pony ride. He greeted the owner, and petted one of the ponies as they chatted. He laughed when the pony tried to get its nose into the shopping bag full of sweets. So, he didn’t like cats, wasn’t too crazy about dogs, but he liked lizards and horses. The man was a never-ending puzzle.

-o-o-o-o-

The team arrived at La Kaz right at six o’clock. Juliet and Rosie were there ahead of them. The day had gone smoothly, and Richard commented on how well behaved the children of Saint Marie were. The more adult-oriented festivals were much more trouble.

The roast beef, potatoes, and Yorkshire pudding were cooked to perfection. Catherine poured wine and asked Richard to make a toast. He made several.

“To the Queen!”

“To the Queen!” they replied.

“To Prince George!”

“Prince George!” came the chorus.

“And to Catherine, thank you for this lovely dinner. I know you’ve had a busy day, and I appreciate that you took the time to make something off-menu.”

“To Catherine!” said the team. Rosie banged her spoon on the highchair, and everyone laughed. Under cover of the laughter, Camille caught Richard’s eye and smiled her thanks for that last toast. He returned her smile with that funny half-smile she loved to see.”

Over the meal, the conversation turned to Yorkshire pudding.

“It’s one of my favorite foods in the whole world,” said Richard. “Mum always made it for Sunday lunch. And Catherine, I have to say, yours is as good as hers.”

“Thank you, Richard. I think it’s easier for me to make because I have multiple ovens. How does she manage to roast the meat at a low temperature and have the oven hot enough to puff the Yorkshire pudding?”

“I have no idea. They just emerge from the kitchen like magic. I’ve never made them myself. I hate to admit it, but I used to get them frozen.”

“No!” Catherine cried. “They can’t possibly be good.”

“Better than nothing when you’re an unskilled cook.”

“They’re all right,” said Dwayne, “But they’re mostly air. This is really a big deal in England?”

“Yes, Dwayne, a very big deal. For many English people, I think it’s a comfort food, a reminder of old-fashioned Sunday meals with the whole family. Every culture or country or family has its own comfort food. What’s yours? Aside from beer, I mean.”

Everyone laughed, and the conversation shifted to a discussion of favorite foods. Camille made a mental note to check out Richard’s kitchen and see if it was suitable for making a meal like this. If tonight didn’t work out, maybe cooking his favorite comfort food would make him look at her as something other than his DS.

As they were getting ready to go out to the beach, Richard took Dwayne aside.

“Um, Dwayne?”

“Yes, Chief?”

“Someone from the team should probably go back into town after the fireworks. You know, to keep an eye on the things as everyone closes up shop.”

“Yes?”

“Well, the thing is, normally, I’d just stay at the station, but I have to be at the beach if everyone else is. And as I’ll already be home…”

“Sure, Chief, I’ll be glad to do it. I was going to go back into town anyhow to see what the after-party will be like.”

“That’s great! Um, I mean, that’s very helpful, thank you.”

As they walked to their vehicles, Dwayne grinned. They BOTH wanted him out of the way.


	7. The Amendment to the Amendment

They all arrived at Richard’s house just before the fireworks were scheduled to begin. Camille took the bag of sweets into the kitchen and put the cookies and other goodies on plates. When she set them on the table on the porch, Juliet shook her head.

“Don’t let Rosie see them. I don’t want to take her home on a sugar rush.”

“Take my blanket and sit on the sand,” said Camille. “I’ll pack up some of this for you to take home.”

Fidel took the blanket and his family walked a short distance from the house. Dwayne accepted a beer from Richard, but declined any dessert. When Richard turned to take a piece of shortbread, Dwayne caught Camille’s eye and nodded to the beach. She made a “stay” gesture and mouthed “It’s okay” so he perched on the veranda railing. Camille declined a beer, but took several pieces of chocolate shortbread. Richard smiled at that, and Camille put one on the table near Richard’s beer.

“You should try it,” she said softly. “Chocolate is good for you.” And with that, she turned to sit on the veranda steps. 

The fireworks started, and Rosie giggled and squealed in appreciation. 

Dwayne wasn’t particularly interested in the fireworks, so he sipped his beer and watched the group. He was still a bit surprised at Richard’s poorly disguised request for privacy and the way Camille had dodged his question about what she wanted. 

Fidel tickled Rosie, who giggled loudly. Juliet scolded him gently for getting the child overexcited so late in the evening. Fidel leaned over and kissed Juliet on the cheek. Dwayne glanced at Camille and saw that she was watching this exchange rather than the fireworks. He could see the wistful expression on her face. Was this what she wanted? With the Chief? Really? Dwayne hadn’t thought of Camille as the type to settle down. And the Chief wouldn’t—would he? Then again, he had asked Dwayne to leave right after the fireworks.

Dwayne shifted his gaze to his boss. Richard wasn’t watching the fireworks, either. He was watching Camille watch the family sitting in front of her. It was rare to see the Chief in such an unguarded moment. Dwayne smiled. Erzulie must have been working overtime. Maybe Camille was going to get what she wanted after all.

By the time the fireworks ended, Rosie was nearly asleep. Fidel picked her up and carried her toward the car. Juliet collected Rosie’s sippy cup and doll, and handed the beach blanket to Camille. They said quiet goodnights and managed to get Rosie into the car without waking her. 

Dwayne suggested that someone should go check on the festival again and supervise the closing. He tried to be casual about volunteering for the task, but he could see that both Camille and Richard looked a bit embarrassed. Richard took the plates of leftover cookies inside, and Dwayne took a moment to hug Camille.

“Bonne chance,” he whispered.

“Merci!” she gave him a quick peck on the cheek and he left.

Richard returned to the veranda, where Camille stood looking out at the sea.

“You know,” he said, “I’ve been thinking about our sun and moon bargain.”

“What about it?”

“Well, my amendment wasn’t a good choice.”

_no, it wasn’t_ Camille turned to look at Richard, “What do you mean?”

“I told you to go home. But you would have gone home anyway. I mean, um, well, maybe not right away. But you’d have gone home to get ready for work. So I was asking you to do something you were going to do anyhow. I’m not sure that should count.”

“I see what you mean. But what do you want to do about it?”

“I think I’m still owed something for my part of the amendment.”

“I suppose you are.”

“So, I was thinking…”

_YES!_ “Yes?”

“Perhaps another astronomy lesson.”

“Oh.”

“There are meteor showers this time of year. We could sit on the beach and watch for them. They’re pretty high in the sky, so it’s best to be away from the house, where it’s dark.”

Richard turned out the lights in the house and they walked onto the beach. Camille dug out shallow “recliner” depressions in the sand and covered them with the beach blanket, making sure to get as little sand on it as possible. They settled into their “recliners,” looking up at the sky.

“What am I looking for?” asked Camille.

“Not a lot, yet,” Richard answered. “It gets better as the night goes on. This is a good night for seeing the meteor showers. The moon will set soon, and that will make it easier for us to see them.”

“The crescent moon is pretty.”

“It’s waxing, so it sets fairly soon after the sun. It will set later tomorrow.”

“Waxing? What is it waxing?”

“No, it isn’t waxing anything. It’s getting bigger. As opposed to waning, which is the decrease in the amount of the lighted surface we see. Waxing toward full moon, waning after full moon.” 

Richard continued to discuss the relative movements of sun, moon, and Earth. Camille had heard this lecture before, so it was easy to half-listen while she let her mind wander. She hadn’t been able to make use of the fireworks. But the last time they had watched the sky from the beach, good things had _almost_ happened. Tonight she was not going to settle for _almost._

After the moon had set, Camille asked, “So tell me what I’m looking for.”

“A meteor is a bright streak across the sky.”

“Right, a shooting star.”

“It isn’t a star.”

“Oh no!” she giggled. “Another thing in astronomy that isn’t what it says it is!”

“The term _shooting star_ goes back to a time when people didn’t know what a meteor is. You do know what it is, yes?”

“A space rock that burns up and glows.”

“Okay, good answer. We’re passing through a debris trail left by a comet. Bits and pieces of rock, called meteoroids, heat up when they enter our atmosphere. They glow, making the streak of light we call a meteor. And if a piece of the rock survives this and lands on Earth’s surface, it’s called a…” he paused for Camille to answer.

“Wait! I know this. We did this in school. It’s a meteorrr…ite. Meteorite!”

“That’s my girl! I’ll make an astronomer of you yet!”

Camille was quiet, debating whether to make a comment about being his girl. Did he even know what he said? She supposed he didn’t mean it _that_ way, but it sounded nice. She settled for a safe answer.

“Your lessons are interesting, I have to say that. Now, where do I look?”

Richard pointed up and toward the northeast. “Sort of there, but they can be almost anywhere. Don’t stare at one point. Try to relax and scan the sky. You’re more likely to pick one up from your peripheral vision, as it’s more sensitive to dim light than the central part of your vision.”

They lay back and watched the sky. After about ten minutes, Camille whined about not seeing any meteors, but Richard told her to be patient. He had seen a few, but by the time he pointed to them, they were gone.

The problem was he knew that the meteor showers weren’t going to be good until midnight, and would get better as the night went on. So how to keep her amused and get her to stay until then? They reviewed the constellations he’d taught her the night of the perigee, and he showed her a few more. When she found Cassiopeia, he showed her how to use one line of the W shape to point to Perseus, the area where most of the meteors would appar to originate. But still, she saw no meteors. 

Camille was beginning to think the meteor shower was a ruse. But Richard wouldn’t do anything underhanded like that. Would he? How long could she pretend to be interested in nonexistent lights in the sky? She was willing to stay all night if that’s what it would take to get him to be interested in her. But how was she going to get him to make his move?

“Are you sure they’re tonight?” she asked after a while.

“Yes. The Perseids are considered the best meteor showers of the year. They last for several weeks, but these next few days will be the peak. Once they really get going, we could see as many as forty or fifty per hour.”

“Once they get going? How long do we have to wait?”

“They’re happening now. But there will be more later, after midnight. And there are even more toward dawn.”

“Wait, this is like the perigee, not happening until dawn?”

“Um, no, it _is_ happening now, just fewer now than later. It isn’t a fake, Camille. Perseid meteor showers are real.”

“But they won’t be good for a couple of hours. So what do we do until then?”

“Um, you could take a nap?” Richard knew it was a pathetic suggestion, but the last time they’d slept on the beach he’d backed off. Tonight he wanted another chance.

Camille rolled onto her side so that she was facing Richard and very close to him. She slid her leg onto his, as she had in her sleep that other night on the beach.

“I’m not sleepy. Are you?”

“No,” he admitted, stretching his arm out to rest his hand on her shoulder. “I’m wide awake. And I’m out of astronomy lessons, except for some rather esoteric stuff about comet orbits—”

“Richard,” Camille interrupted him softly. “No more astronomy lessons.”

“Oh. Are you sure?” he pulled her closer to him. “I thought we might review perigee.”

“Well, maybe _one_ more lesson.”

“That’s my girl,” he said softly, and stroked her cheek. “I wouldn’t want that chocolate you ate go to waste.” 

They kissed. One kiss led to another, and before long they were half undressed.

“No,” Richard said, breathing heavily. “Wait a minute.”

“Richard, don’t you dare stop now!”

“Not on the beach, all sandy. Let’s go up to the house. We can come back here for the meteor showers later.”

“What makes you think I’m going to let you out of bed before dawn?”

Richard chuckled as he stood and held out his hand to help Camille up, “You may be a good astronomer, but your knowledge of physiology needs work if you think I can keep going until dawn. That’s a lot of hours. I fear Perseus will last longer than I will.”

“We’ll see about that,” said Camille as she stood up. 

-o-o-o-o-

Later, when they were both exhausted, Camille asked, “Why didn’t you just make this your amendment?”

“I couldn’t bargain for sex!”

“I’d have said yes. You must have known that. God knows I’ve dropped enough hints.”

“I suppose I knew. The thing is, I felt I could bargain for a situation where something MIGHT happen. But I couldn’t bargain for sex or trick you into it. That wouldn’t be much better than coercing you because I’m your boss—ohh, God, there’s something I don’t want to think about.”

“Then don’t.”

“Just tell me you won’t regret this or hate me in the morning.”

“I could never hate you, Richard. I love you.”

“I—why? I’m hardly the prize of the year and you… you’re fantastic.”

“Because you’re too honorable to bargain or trick me or coerce me. Because you’re the guy who proves men aren’t all alike. Because, even though you haven’t said it, I believe that you love me.”

“I do love you. You are the sun, hot, bright, shining. My life would be cold and lifeless without you.”

“And you are the moon, lighting up the night so that I never feel alone.”

“The sun and the moon.” Richard chuckled. “And here we are, before dawn is due, sharing one space.”

“I thought you said that couldn’t happen.”

“Apparently, metaphors trump astronomy.”

They slept for a while. And around four o’clock, they returned to the beach. The meteors appeared, and Camille was suitably impressed. She snuggled next to Richard and sighed.

“It’s been quite a night. We had the festival fireworks. And meteors are like little fireworks. But the best fireworks of all are the ones we make for ourselves.”

“I was never a big fan of fireworks,” said Richard. “But I am now. I suppose the next big fireworks display won’t be until Bonfire night.” 

“Maybe for the town of Honoré, but I have no intention of waiting until November for more of our fireworks—”

Richard interrupted her with a kiss. Then he said, “I was hoping you’d say that. I have no intention of waiting until dawn.”


End file.
